


and they call it (puppy) love

by StoriesofmyLife



Series: what to expect when you're expecting or when your wingman adopts a dog without your knowledge or consent: a series by Thomas "Iceman" Kazansky [1]
Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: A snapshot into their lives, Boys Being Boys, Boys In Love, EVERYTHING GOES WRONG, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ice and Mav adopt a dog, Ice and Mav raise a puppy, M/M, Mav lives to stress Ice out, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and Everything else, and test his patience, or more like Mav adopts one and Ice just has to deal, what could go wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesofmyLife/pseuds/StoriesofmyLife
Summary: Ice honestly isn’t sure what, exactly, he’d been expecting upon his entrance to the kitchen—an explosion of some sort, a new construction project that would go unfinished until Ice got annoyed with it and called a professional in to finish it, a dead body—honestly, the possibilities were endless—but it isn't almost being bowled over by a black and brown blur that’s covered in something dark and wet and Maverick yelling at said blur, that upon closer inspection, is a dog. More specifically, a puppy. Even more specifically, a puppy that's covered in mud. And getting said mud all over Ice’s freshly pressed uniform.“Maverick.” Ice manages, trying to wrestle away from the eager puppy, who’s tongue is hell bent on licking every square inch of his face. He doges an overexcited attempt at his eyeball, narrowly avoiding getting blinded by an uncoordinated paw.  “Why is there a dog in our house?”or-Maverick adopts a dog and Ice is just a long for the ride.
Relationships: Bradley Bradshaw & Carole Bradshaw, Carole Bradshaw & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Carole Bradshaw & Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Series: what to expect when you're expecting or when your wingman adopts a dog without your knowledge or consent: a series by Thomas "Iceman" Kazansky [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854406
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	and they call it (puppy) love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! It's been almost two months since I've posted anything and it's not for lack of trying. I've struggling a lot with my mental health and my writing kind of fell by the wayside because of it. I came up with this idea over the weekend--my roommate and her girlfriend just brought a new puppy home and she's quite the little handful. It got me wondering about our favorite couple adopting a dog and going through all the trials and tribulations of being a new pet owner. I plan on making this a series and I have a few ides for the next few installments. Nothing has been written, but I'm hoping to get something up soon. 
> 
> Apologies if this is rough--like I said, I've been out of the habit of writing for almost a month, but I'm also pretty excited about this, so I hope you guys like it. 
> 
> Let me know what you think (:

Ice feels the relief of being home after a long, trying day, sweep through him as soon as he pulls in the driveway. Too much paperwork, dealing with cocky pilots that can’t back up their mediocre flying with any sort of textbook knowledge and having to suffer through grading abysmal test answers has caused a low grade headache to settle behind Ice’s eyes that been there since lunch. He’s ready to shower, change and relax into the couch to watch mindless TV with Maverick until they’re both ready to sleep.

As Ice gets out of his car, he looks over, expecting to see Maverick’s bike parked in the driveway and frowns when he sees the black, gleaming paint of the Mustang instead. 

He isn’t surprised that Maverick was home already; today is Friday, after all, a day that consists of paperwork and meetings—the “administrative bullshit” that came with Maverick’s promotion to Chief Instructor and his least favorite part since earning the position last summer, when Viper had decided to step down and work towards retirement, only staying on as a part time instructor (a move, Ice is sure, had more to do with Viper wanting to make sure Maverick didn’t burn the place down rather than a deep-seated desire to continue teaching). The only perk that Maverick enjoyed about Friday’s was the fact that his afternoon meetings with the brass didn’trun late and he got to leave early as a result. 

But what’s weird about the Mustang being parked in the driveway was that Maverick usually only drives it when he has to run errands or if the weather is shitty. Considering that they had gone grocery shopping yesterday to beat the weekend rush and the weather was a typical-sunny-and-seventy-five San Diego fall day—the reason Maverick drove into work on the bike—there’s no reason for the Mustang to be out in the first place. 

Unless Maverick had taken it upon himself to cook dinner—and Ice uses the term _cook_ very _very_ loosely when it comes to Maverick and whatever he manages to pull together in the kitchen. Maverick is the type to burn water, which should be impossible but, alas, with Maverick, even the impossible is possible—failed and went out to get take out he’ll try to pass off as his own, there’s no reason for Maverick to have gone out. 

A sense of foreboding washes over Ice and he tries to ignore it as trudges up the steps of the front porch and it only increases when he enters the front door. 

The house is quiet _—too_ quiet. 

Any space that is occupied by Maverick Mitchell is _never_ quiet and if it is, Ice has come to learn that usually means Maverick is up to something that is going to test Ice’s a). patience, b). temper or c). the ability control both simultaneously. 

And considering that Ice isn’t feeling his particular brand of _ice cold, no mistakes, calm, cool and collected,_ he has to give himself a moment to decide if going back to base and sleeping in his office is a good idea or if he can muster up the energy to deal with whatever form of Maverick Mitchell Bullshit™ that would greet him further into the house. 

Just as he’s drafting a mental pro/con list in his mind, Ice hears a loud _crash,_ followed by a soft curse and a chorus of _“no no no’s”_ that does absolutely _nothing_ to ease the tension Ice feels taking up residence in his shoulders. With a resignation he feels down to his bones, Ice drops his keys into the bowl they leave on a table by the door and heads towards the noise that sounds like it came from the kitchen. 

Ice honestly isn’t sure what, exactly, he’d been expecting upon his entrance to the kitchen—an explosion of some sort, a new construction project that would go unfinished until Ice got annoyed with it and called a professional in to finish it, a dead body—honestly, the possibilities were endless—but it isn't almost being bowled over by a black and brown blur that’s covered in something dark and wet and Maverick yelling at said blur, that upon closer inspection, is a _dog._ More specifically, a _puppy_. Even more specifically, a puppy, covered in mud. And getting said mud all over Ice’s freshly pressed uniform. 

_“Maverick_.” Ice manages, trying to wrestle away from the eager puppy, who’s tongue is hell bent on licking every square inch of his face. He doges an overexcited attempt at his eyeball, narrowly avoiding getting blinded by an uncoordinated paw.“Why is there a dog in our house?”

He hears Maverick curse. “ _Shit,_ sorry Ice—down girl—Angel _no_ , no, no, _don’t_ —“

The puppy— _Angel,_ Ice’s brain corrects—pauses in her licking of Ice’s face to shake, flinging mud and dirt _everywhere_ and Ice sputters when some of it gets in his mouth because _ew._

Maverick scoops the puppy up off of Ice, who wriggles in a silent form of protest, eager to get back to her unsuspecting victim. She realizes quickly that she’s not going to get her way and settles for Maverick instead, licking broad stripes up his face that he half heartedly attempts to dodge in order to give Ice a sheepish look.

“Welcome home?” Maverick tries, wincing when the puppy bites his ear. 

Ice, from his position on the floor, just glares.

_I should’ve stayed at the office_

_*_

Ice likes dogs, really, he does. He likes other people’s dogs just fine—he’ll pet them and play with them and scratch them behind their ears, but Ice has never really seen himself as a dog kind of guy.

Puppies remind Ice a lot of babies—they’re cute and cuddly and small. But they’re also messy, expensive and time consuming. They eat a lot (read: _everything_ ), they poop and pee a lot and they also make weird noises for no particular reason other than to just make noise. They wiggle and squirm and wreak havoc everywhere by getting into anything and everything they can get their grubby little paws on and you spend just as much time cleaning up after them as you do trying to keep them from making a mess in the first place. 

They also, like babies and children, require a lot of time and attention, neither of which Ice and Maverick have a lot of, this early on in their careers.

Which is why, when Maverick had broached the topic of a dog when they had first bought the house—almost a year ago now—Ice had shot it down faster than an enemy MiG in a radar lock. 

“Mav, we don’t have the time,” Ice remembers saying. “We both work full time jobs that sometimes require late hours, we can still be called away on missions, we’re still remodeling the house—it’s just not a good idea.”

He also remembers feeling like a total asshole when he saw Maverick’s hopeful expression fade into one of utter, gut-wrenching disappointment.

“Yeah,” Maverick had said, looking anywhere _but_ at Ice, “I guess you’re right, I’ve just—“ he shrugs, giving Ice a small, sad smile, “—always wanted one.”

“I know.” Ice had murmured, kissing Maverick’s cheek. “I know you want a dog and maybe one day we can get one, just not right now,” he’d added, when Maverick’s hopeful look returned, “give it sometime and we can revisit this conversation, okay?”

“Okay,” Maverick had muttered dejectedly, lips jutting out into an honest-to-god pout.

Ice had kissed it away. “Someday,” he’d promised. “Now, what do you want for dinner?”

*

If Ice is being completely honest, he’s forgotten all about that conversation, but staring at the disaster that was his kitchen and Maverick, he suddenly wishes he’d been more clear on the _someday_ —as in _never,_ not his life time, a solid and resounding _no._

The puppy is now docile in Maverick arms and she’s eyeing Ice with a curiosity that’s making him decidedly uncomfortable and Maverick…he’s still giving Ice that same sheepish look he wears whenever he’s done something he damn well knows he shouldn’t have. But Ice can also see the familiar determined glint in his sea-glass eyes and the stubborn jut of his chin and Ice knows he's lost this argument before it even begins, but that doesn't mean he’s giving up that easily. 

Ice opens his mouth, but before he can begin, Maverick cuts him off. 

“I can explain,” he says quickly. 

Ice raises a doubtful eyebrow and crosses his arms. “This ought to be good.”

Maverick grins, all cocksure and charming, completely undeterred by Ice’s skepticism, but what else is new?

“So, because I got out early, I was going to go and pick up dinner, right? I figured you’d had a long day and didn’t feel like cooking and I wanted to do something nice for you—“

_Suck up_ , Ice thinks with a roll of his eyes that’s more fond than exasperated. 

“—but when I got to the restaurant, our order wasn’t ready, so instead of waiting in a booth or something, I decide to go outside and walk around. Well, when I walked out of the restaurant, I noticed that a new pet store had opened across the street and when I got there, they were doing this adoption fair to celebrate the grand opening—“

Ice rubs at his eyes, fighting a headache and making a mental to note to never leave Maverick unattended for more than a few minutes, ever again. 

“—and I _swear_ , Ice, I was just going to _look—“_

Ice can’t help but snort, because _that’s_ a blatant lie if he’s ever heard one and judging by the quirk of Maverick’s lips, he knows it, too. 

“—okay, _maybe_ I was scouting the place, just in case,” Maverick allows. “ _But,_ I swear, I wasn’t going to do anything until I talked to you about it,” Maverick insists and Ice just shoots a pointed look at the messy bundle of fur currently residing in Maverick’s mud covered arms. The puppy pauses in her chewing of Maverick’s shirt, blinking between them as if she sensed they were talking about her. 

She licks at Maverick’s chin before going back to gnawing on Maverick’s shirt sleeve and the fondness of his smile, the softness of his eyes makes Ice feel… _weird._

It’s an echo of the same feeling that fills Ice whenever he watches Maverick interact with Bradley. It’s not butterflies, exactly. It’s more like this…giddy anticipation—like right before he takes flight—that warms into a gentle balmthe longer he watches them together. His heart gets all… _fluttery_ and it throbs in an aching way, like a yearning or a desire to see that fond smile directed at something or someone that was… _theirs._ Not that Ice doesn’t consider Bradley family—he loves that kid like he does his own nieces and nephews, he would do _anything_ for that kid. But watching Maverick with Bradley—the way he loves him and watches over him, the patient and gentle way he teaches Bradley about the world around him, everything from the planes in the sky to the ocean outside their house—it’s different than watching his sisters with their kids. 

Watching Maverick interact with Bradley makes Ice yearn for things he never thought he really wanted, _before._ Before Maverick and the life they’re building together, slowly, soundly. Before Ice even knew who Maverick Mitchell was, before Top Gun and Ice’s entry into the Navy. 

Ice has never really wanted a child—it was more of an abstract thought, a vague possibility in the far distant future, a passing comment his mom would say to him whenever he’d roll his eyes at her worrying over him. A worry that only worsened once he began contemplating a career in the military. 

_“You’ll understand, one day, when you have children of your own.” She had said before ruffling his hair, blue eyes twinkling knowingly._

But then Ice had committed to his dreams of going to Annapolis and becoming a pilot and along the way, he knew that future his mom had dreamed for him—a wife and a house to fill with children and a front yard with a white picket fence for them to play in—died when Ice realized the soft, gentle curves of a woman’s body didn’t give him the same heady rush of _nerves_ and _want_ and _desire_ as the hard dips and angles of a man’s body did. 

And Ice had been okay with that, accepting it for what it was and moving on in his life. He had his career, his family, his friends and he was fine with that. 

Until Maverick came along and made Ice want things—a husband with a shiny gold band that matched his. A house to fill with the sounds of laughter and the pitter patter of little feet. A dark haired child with Maverick’s mischievous smile and penchant for trouble. A child they could love and help mould and shape into an adult with Maverick’s stubbornness; who would love anyone and everything around them. Who would have the confidence and tenacity that would allow them to tackle the world around them and worm their way into even the stubbornness of hearts.

Ice always saw more of Maverick in their imaginary child than himself. And he was okay with that, too. Not because he wouldn’t want their child to have pieces of himself, but because what Ice wants, more than anything, is _Maverick’s_ child. A little Maverick that Ice could love and protect from the world around him, that he could give a home to, a _family_ to. And not when they’re twenty-four and hell bent on proving themselves to everyone around them, but from the start. 

Maybe it was because Ice will always want to go back in time and protect _his_ Maverick from the countless strings of foster homes and the distant blood relatives that didn’t want him. To love him, the way someone as gentle and loving as Maverick should be loved. 

But either way, those wants and desires were impossible and that was something they both have had to come to terms with when they entered this relationship. It was dangerous enough, what they were doing. Every moment they were together—at work, in public—they had to be careful, because all it would take is for someone to even _think,_ let alone _confirm_ , that there was something… _more_ to their relationship and then they could _both_ kiss their wings goodbye. 

And _that_ …that hurt just as much, if not a little more, than choosing to give up the possibility of children and raising a family of their own in order to hold on to the very thing that would turn on them in a heartbeat if they found out about _this—_ Ice and Maverick and their home together. The only other thing they love as much as their wings.

With a pang, Ice realizes that maybe the whole puppy _thing_ was Maverick’s way of filling a void, creating the family that they couldn’t have because of their chosen careers. 

And it makes Ice feel like a total tool for not realizing it sooner. And it only deepens when he realizes Maverick is still talking.

“—and she was just _there_ , Ice, all alone and she was so cute and _sad_ and yeah, I know it should’ve been a joint decision, but—“ Maverick shrugs, looking down at the messy bundle of fur and mud, who blinks up at him sleepily, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth, one ear perked up and the other one laying flat against her head. They meet his eyes simultaneously—one pair a bright sea green that almost _shimmers_ in the fading sunlight coming through their kitchen window and the other set so brown they’re almost black, set in an adorably furry face with too big ears and comically big paws that she won’t grow into for quite some time. 

Ice sighs.

Maverick grins. 

The puppy— _Angel,_ Ice thinks, correcting himself—wiggles in Maverick’s arms, wanting down and he obliges her, setting her down on the still messy, mud covered kitchen floor. They both watches as she stumbles clumsily over to Ice, still unsure on her big paws and long legs, but even more so on the slippery kitchen tile. 

She plops down on top of his feet, cocking her head to the side, studying him with those expressive mocha eyes and Ice studies her right back—everything from her pink tongue that seems to be too long for her mouth, to her tail that’s thumping a soft rhythm against the tile. 

“I couldn’t leave her,” Maverick murmurs, watching them both from his position against the counter. “She just seemed so lonely in that big cage and maybe it’s dumb, but I know what that’s like.”

Well _fuck._

If the matching pouts doesn’t do it—how a dog could pout, Ice will never know, but Angel’s managing it, big, sad eyes and all—the emotional manipulation sure as hell does.

While Ice knows what Maverick said was true, Ice is also aware that playing dirty isn’t beneath Maverick, not when it’s something he really wants. 

And if what Maverick wants is this little fluff ball of black and brown fur that made a mess of their kitchen and is currently contending herself with chewing on the laces of Ice’s boots then, well, it doesn't look like he’s got much of a choice, now does it? 

“Fine,” Ice says finally, tiredly, _resigned,_ but it’s worth it to see the beautiful smile spread across Maverick’s face. “But,” he adds, eyeing Angel wearily, “there are going to be rules and boundaries and we need to get her on a schedule, enroll her in some obedience classes—“

“— _yeah yeah yeah_ , all the boring stuff,” Maverick says with a roll of his eyes, scooping up the puppy from the floor. To her he adds, “Don’t worry, Angel, he may look grumpy but he’s really just a big old softie underneath all that ice.”

Ice rolls his eyes, but he can’t deny the warmth in his veins or the flutter his heart gives when Angel licks Maverick’s nose, making it scrunch and wrinkle in a way that Ice always finds cute—which is why it’s one of his favorite spots to kiss Maverick, too.

“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” Ice mutters as he stands up from the chair, eyes flickering around the mess that is their kitchen. 

“Nah,” Maverick says, shooting Ice a teasing grin. “After all, I’m sure you thought the same thing about me and I grew on you, didn’t I?”

Ice rolls his eyes, but he can’t seem to fight the smile tugging at the corners of his lips, because _yeah_ , fair point. 

“Something like that,” Ice agrees, brushing a kiss across Maverick’s lips. 

“Thank you,” Maverick murmurs when they part, sea-green eyes unusually serious when they meet Ice’s. “I know this isn’t something that you wanted but this, _her—“_ his gaze flickers down to the dozing puppy in his arms, a soft smile dancing along the edges of his lips when she snuffles, burrowing deeper into the crook of his arms. He’s glowing like a parent holding their new born baby for the first time and it’s making Ice’s heart feel all warm and achey.

Maverick shrugs and meets Ice’s eyes almost shyly. “I know it may seem stupid, but this means a lot to me and I—just, _thank you,”_ he whispers, giving Ice another kiss. 

Maverick’s repeated gratitude makes guilt rise and sting like poison in Ice’s gut and he pulls away to frown down at Maverick, who only blinks up at him in confusion. 

“Mav, I—“ Ice starts, but then pauses, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry,” he decides on, “I never realized how— _important_ this was to you and I’m sorry I just…brushed you off when you brought this up to me when we first bought the house.”

And he _is_ sorry—for not being more open minded, for not trying to understand why something like this might be important to Maverick other than just fulfilling some sort of long standing, childhood wish. 

But to Ice’s surprise and relief, Maverick only laughs. 

“Ice, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Maverick says, giving Ice a reassuring smile. “If I’m being honest, _I_ didn’t even know how important this was to me until I set eyes on her and I don’t know, it was just— _weird,_ ” he breathes, furrowing his eyebrows. “It was like, I never really knew how much something could mean to me until I saw her. Like, it was meant to be or something, I don’t know,” he meets Ice’s eyes, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, “does that make sense? Do I sound stupid? I feel like I sound stupid.”

_It does make sense because that how I felt when I fell in love with you,_ Ice thinks, but doesn't say. 

Instead, Ice shakes his head and swallows heavily.“No,” he whispers.Clearing his throat, he adds, “You’re not stupid, Mav, at least I don’t think so.”

Maverick smiles, small and shy and Ice can’t help but smile back. 

“Now,” Ice says, surveying their kitchen. “Care to tell me what the hell happened here?”

Maverick suddenly finds the mud on Angel’s fur very interesting and Ice feels the headache he’s been fighting all day come back with a vengeance. 

“Maverick,” Ice says slowly. “Why is there mud all over the kitchen? And why is the dog—” Ice pauses, looking Angel over, from her mud covered head to her mud covered paws. “ _Oh no._ ”

Maverick swallows, giving Ice a nervous smile. “You know what? I think I left our dinner at the restaurant, so I’m just gonna—“

He sets the puppy down, who looks up at him in confusion and begins to backtrack towards the front door. 

“ _Maverick_ ,“ Ice starts, tone warning. “Did she dig up my garden?”

Maverick chuckles nervously. “See, about that Ice—“

“Maverick, I swear to _God—“_

“Seriously, the restaurant closes in like thirty minutes so if you want dinner, I’d better leave, so gotta go, love you, _bye—“_

_“Maverick—!”_

The front door slams and Ice sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, wishing, again, that he’d just spent the night in his office. 

A pitter patter of paws on the tile makes him look down. Angel blinks up at him, tail thumping against the floor as she observes him, one ear perked up and one ear laying flat against her head, tongue lolling out of her mouth, almost like she was… _grinning._

“You’re going to cause me a lot of problems, aren't you?” Ice asks her. 

She _yips_ excitedly, pawing at the front of his pants and Ice sighs, petting her head. 

“Yeah,” Ice sighs. “That’s what I thought.”

He looks back at the front door and shakes his head, a fond laugh leaving his lips, before he looks back down at Angel, who’s watching him—which, is something she seems to do a lot. Ice can’t help but find it kind of creepy. 

“Well, he’ll be gone for awhile,” Ice tells her. Eyeing her still mud covered fur, he adds, “How about we get you cleaned up while we wait?”

She blinks and he takes that as a _yes_. 

Tilting his head towards the hallway, he says, “C’mon, bathroom’s this way.”

Angel pauses, eyes flickering to the kitchen, the _mess,_ before they flicker back to him, cocking her head to the side as if to ask, _and what about this?_

Ice chuckles. “Don’t worry, your dad will clean _that_ up when he gets back. I’m not doing all the work for him.” 

She cocks her head, blinks. 

Ice blinks right back, undeterred. “He made the mess, he cleans it up, house rules, now c’mon, I want a shower and you need a bath. And,” he adds, eyeing her, “if you’re anything like your dad, I’m not leaving you alone for even a second.”

Angel’s tongue slips out in what Ice is coming to learn as her form of a smile. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Trouble, with a capital _T.”_ Ice mutters, but he can’t help the grin that forms on his lips. _“_ You’re gonna fit right in.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Like I said, I plan on turning this into a series and in the next few ideas I have are another 5 + 1 series, Maverick explaining her name (it might seem self explanatory, but there's a deeper meaning to it, i promise), and I also want to explore Maverick's side, too. So this could end up being a few part series, so we'll see what happens. If you guys have an additional ideas, I'm all ears :)


End file.
